


The Wild (Witch of the) West

by Lyssandra_Med



Series: One-Shot [28]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Outlaws, Bellamione Cult War, Cowgirls & Lesbians, Discord: Bellamione Cult, F/F, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Smut, Team Furbae, alternate universe - wild west
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 17:16:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20970161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyssandra_Med/pseuds/Lyssandra_Med
Summary: Bellatrix is (maybe) an Outlaw.Hermione is (maybe) a Sheriff.Luna is (definitely) amused.





	The Wild (Witch of the) West

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LindaOnASkateboard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LindaOnASkateboard/gifts), [VegaWestBlack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VegaWestBlack/gifts).

> A little smutfic-ish w/ some plot.  
Edited (poorly, so if this offends your sensibilities (comma's and stuttering and the like) move right along)
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy my feverish attempt at remembering how to write smut.
> 
> (i'll attempt to clean up obvious errors and some comma's later)

Most saloons (and bars, taverns, and inns’ as well) were terrible places, in Hermione’s learned opinion.

Or maybe she just particularly loathed the Hog’s Head?

She wasn’t quite sure, she never did manage to escape town nowadays, and had preferred the last few years to do her job, do it well, and remain in one place. All while simultaneously not once getting shot; a feat in its own right by her measure.

Still though, learned or not, the stench wafting out from the doors in front of her were enough to turn her face green with secondhand hangover and the lingering odor men’s sweat. Nothing could be done about that though, at least nothing that wouldn’t take a week of scrubbing, and with resolve in her face she stepped forward.

Her face pinched immediately from the smell, eyes lingering along the bottom floor before naturally drifting upwards along the side mounted stairwell to scan the upper mezzanine.

A quick and practiced flick of her wrist brought out the golden pocket watch attached to a pocket hanging along her breast, the minute and hour hands once again alerting her to the fact that this little venture had a time limit in place. The Marshal from Fort Diagon had given her thirty-six hours to bring in the bounty or forfeit the right; and it was looking more and more like she would miss out. So here she was, her boots crushing up a trail amid weed and hay that lay strewn about the floor, the heavy and rough cotton of her trousers chafing against the inside of her thighs were pockets lay filled with whatever she thought she would need for the day; hidden and waiting should the need arise. 

She rubbed absentmindedly against the sight of her revolved, the metal hanging below her holster at an awkward angle that she always  _ meant _ to fix, but never seemed to have the time. The thumb on her left hand found a natural handle on her belt, lopsided and patched back together with roughly sewn in chord, once again the result of never having enough time. Her parents had always wanted her to be a proper type of lady, but, well… The world had other plans for her.

“Evenin’ Deputy,” Seamus inclined his head towards where she stood against his bartop, a rolled cigarette between his lips and a scowl adorning his face. 

Hermione nodded in return before turning to surveil the empty establishment before removing her bowler hat, a cumbersome item she’d won off Harry nearly two years ago, “Seamus. Anythin’ on tonight or are you closin’ shop early again?” She turned back to await his reply, sure about his answer despite polite society dictating that she ask him regardless.

_ There- _

Up on the mezzanine she caught a flash of black curls cascading down and over a pale back, the expanse unhindered by straps or buttons, wrapped and coddled by a cinched corset instead. The flash of contrasting colors led her to track the movement as the woman deftly passed through an open door and beyond.

Seamus peered at the back of her head, tracking where she was looking, before knocking twice upon the bartop with his knuckles, “Well, I’ll stay up til George gets back, though Lord knows when that’ll be-”

“Alright,” she interrupted him with a nod just as she began walking off towards the stairs, “Let him know I’m here when he’s back, ‘kay?”

The sound of glass thumping down onto wood met her ears just as she sound of her boots on the stairs eclipsed it, “Sure thing Deputy Granger,” Seamus knocked twice, “Have fun.”

\---

“Ms. Lovegood,” Hermione nodded in greeting towards the Madam who ran the upper portion of the Hog’s Head. The woman, Ms. Lovegood to her clientele, Luna to her friends, and ‘Looney Luna’ to her enemies, was dressed in only the finest of silk and cotton that she could afford; a silver dress with ruffled petticoat, the color like the refined ore that was mined a days ride north, wispy and ethereal like the ghosts that Harry so loved to prattle on about whenever the cells were particularly empty. 

Luna was young, maybe only one or two years younger than herself, blonde like she lived it and mysterious to a fault. All anyone had ever managed to wring out of her was that her father ran a rather influential paper back east, and she had made a break for the west as soon as she was old enough to lead a wagon. Beyond that, and her proclivity towards revealing statements that were both vague and incomprehensible, the woman was an enigma.

She had braided her silver-blonde hair this night, wrapped the length all atop her head and held it all down with gleaming spikes of matching silver that closely resembled the nails all hammered in along the track just outside of town. Hermione, more than others, knew that the look was for more than just show; not even a month before she had pinned an unruly patrons hand to his table after he accosted one of her girls, a sight Hermione sorely wished to see again.

Something about such a small and tame looking woman showing up an overly beefed man just put a smile on her face. That it had taken a pair of pliers to unpin his bleeding fist from the wood was just a bonus.

“Pieces please, you know the rules as much as anyone Deputy Granger,” Luna held out her open palm at Hermione’s waist.

Hermione placed her hand atop the strap keeping the revolver in place, “You know I ain’t here for that Luna.”

The silver woman nodded once before nodding and smiling in her own odd little way, “All the same I’ll need it off ya before you walk on through that door. Rules are rules for a reason Hermione. We’d all be nothing but monsters without ‘em.”

Indecision reared its head through the back of Hermione’s mind, she’d never once come up here to use a room, only watched from below as patrons filtered in and out through the course of an evening, their heads filled with drink, bodies swaying and yearning for a good time (at whatever high price Luna managed to command.) Then again there was always a first time for everything.

“Alright,” Hermione pulled the metal and wood from between its holster, spinning the pistol once before presenting the butt towards Luna’s waiting hand, “I’m not here to-”

“S’alright Hermione, first taste is always on the House, ‘least for friends. Have fun with Bella,” Luna moved to the side and began to escort her toward the door the raven haired woman had walked through, “Just watch out though,” Luna leaned in to whisper conspiratorially against the shell of her ear, her hand on Hermione’s back and something sinful in her eyes, “She bites.”

Hermione wanted to ask, needed the clarification, but before she could think to open her mouth the younger woman had shoved her on through the door before pulling it tightly closed behind her. 

\---

"Deputy," a voice husked out from beneath the cover of darkness, one lantern hanging by the shrouded window to blanket the room in a soft twilight of shadow and orange flame. 

"Sheriff actually," Hermione dropped her bowler upon the table to her right, "Though don't tell Harry that. He's still under the impression that he runs the town. We all thought it funny enough, so we let him keep at it." 

"That," the woman smiled until Hermione could see the glint of her teeth and sparkle in her eye, "Is… Odd, is it not?" 

"It is," Hermione concurred with a nod of her head, "But that's what passes for entertainment around these parts, Ms…?" 

The woman stood from where she'd been sitting atop the bed, "Bellatrix." She stepped forward into the half light, Hermione's heart set to a stuttering rhythm at the view that awaited her, "Bellatrix Black, at your service. Now how can I help you Deputy?" 

The woman was taller than Hermione would have thought from her view down below, a combination of heels and posture that was refined due to age and status; her back straight and chest out while her head was cocked slightly to the side. Her smile though, the smile was what cinched the deal. 

Hard, a gash, bright and toothy beneath the lamplight. A predator calling to her prey. 

Hermione gulped once when her throat suddenly felt sticky and dry, again while she tried to find words, whatever the hell those were.

“Um, you can-, I’m Hermione,” her hand shot out at an awkward angle while inside she cursed her sudden loss of societal decorum,  _ ‘She’s just a woman. An incredibly  _ ** _pretty_ ** _ woman, but human all the same.’ _ “I’m Hermione Granger…”

Bellatrix curtsied in lieu of taking the proffered hand, "Well then it's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Gra-" 

"Miss, actually," Hermione's words interrupted the woman, her eyes darting up and something warm settling upon her face, "Unmarried as of now, so Miss is fine." 

Bellatrix's smile turned deadly sharp, "Well, then we're in the same boat. Now, how about you have a seat and I'll pour us some drinks, alright?" 

Hermione flushed with warmth, "I'm, no, that won't be necessary, I just needed to ask-" 

"Oh please Sheriff," Bellatrix guided her towards a seat pulled away from the small table in the room, "I insist. It's not so often I get to meet a refined woman around here, you'll be doing me a favor Pet." 

_ ‘Pet?’ _ Hermione, the sputtering mess that she was upon having warm hands (and sharp nails) press into her arm while a body practically radiating heat thrust up against her as she was guided down to sit, let the woman move her into place without a further word of protest. 

_ 'It's only one drink, right?'  _ she nodded to Bellatrix and herself,  _ 'One drink won't hurt anything.'  _

\---

Obviously enough one drink soon turned into two, then four, and then it seemed the bottle was the preferred method of delivery, words talked around the glass spout as Hermione first fought to keep the conversation on track;  _ 'Who are you, where did you come from, any relation to the notorious Death Eaters Gang,'  _ before it finally all devolved to  _ 'Why are you still dressed?'  _

Well, her inebriated mind couldn't come with a good answer for that one; leading to where she was now, standing stock still (as well as she could with half a bottle of very cheap,  _ very _ high proof alcohol swirling around her gut), as Bellatrix ran sharp nails down her suddenly uncovered back. 

"So many muscles," Bellatrix languidly complimented her, the palms of her hands riding the curve of her shoulders to her sides, holding position on either side of her while long fingers played with the leather belt holding her pants from sliding off. 

Hermione rolled her neck, long curls now free to fall about her shoulders and back, the farthest edges tickling the top of Bellatrix's hands as she massaged a pattern into her skin. 

"It's not an easy job-" 

Bellatrix leaned in close until her lips were placed against the back of Hermione's neck, breath tickling between her hair, "But someone's gotta do it?" 

"Exactly," Hermione leaned back fully until she could feel the swelling form of Bellatrix's corset against her back, hands sliding further to her front while warm fingers began dipping beneath the waistband of her trousers, "S'feels good," her words were a near breathless pant, "Real good…" 

Bellatrix pulled and then pushed her towards the bed, removing her hands and turning her around until they were facing one another, "How about I make you feel even better Sheriff," she leaned in to nip against Hermione's bottom lip, a move that had Hermione sucking in air and positively burning in one go, "Just help me out of these drapes, okay?" 

Hermione nodded as Bellatrix turned in place, her hands coming up to fumble and twist through an alcoholic haze against the straps and buttons holding the cloth so tightly closed around the woman's chest. It took her a few tries but soon enough the deed was done, pale skin bare for her to explore with fingers and lips as the corset and dress fell down to pool on the floor. 

She bit once she felt up to it, mouth a warm seal against the curve of Bellatrix's throat, hands reaching across her body to cup breasts that burned her palms, rolling and flicking the harder flesh that topped them. She fell backwards when a wave of dizziness washed over her, pulling Bellatrix backwards and onto her lap, the woman sitting daintily atop her thighs, wiggling backwards until they were chest to back again. 

"Go ahead," Bellatrix half turned her head to whisper against Hermione's lips, "I know you want to…" 

Hermione, emboldened by the words and fire coursing through her veins, began a slow treck from breasts to stomach that had her nails scraping along flesh as she played with the odd scars and divet beneath her ribs. Slowly, but boldly, one hand moved on to ghosting fingertips atop her public bone, a smile on her lips as she began to play with the shortly cropped hair below. Bellatrix turned further until she was able to lock their lips again, tongues dancing for position and dominance, teeth nipping and pulling at lips as Hermione found her courage and pressed apart Bellatrix's legs, her hand darting down and forward to cup the woman fully. 

"Mine," she grumbled into Bellatrix's chin, an answering rumble from the woman’s chest her only reply, her lower body lifting forward as she searched for the pressure of Hermione's fingers where she wanted them. 

Bellatrix shifted to spread her legs as fully as she could, her body grinding backwards into Hermione, the Sheriff twitching and gyrating while her thighs pressed and searched for their own form of friction. Desire sent her fingers forward to rub against a nub of hardened flesh, full and engorged from the heat and desire running tandem between them both.

She ran patterns as their mouths grew desperate, soft moans and sounds of pleasure floating up throats as the time began to lengthen, Hermione's hand growing frantic in its energy to satisfy the woman atop her lap. Her free hand, heretofore clamped on the inside of her thigh, moved forward as much as she could until she felt wetness and damp heat, playing with the warmth before darting inside that was timed to the movement of her other.

"Harder-," Bellatrix was panting through ragged breaths after Hermione's motions reached a frenzy, heat pouring up against her cheeks and chest as warmth in her core spilled out to fill every limb, every bit of muscle and flesh in her body. 

Bellatrix screamed with a voice that was lost and broken, but so undoubtedly satisfied that it had Hermione grinning into her neck. Her forehead rested against the older woman’s neck, eyes closed and forehead clammy with sweat that brought curls to stick against her face. She followed and rode Bellatrix down from her high, fingers slowing to a gentle rub that turned to motions of affection, the hand on her hip rising up to palm her breast again, soft and slow as she coated the hardened bud with slickness gathered from between her thighs.

\---

Hermione wasn’t exactly sure when it happened (maybe in the minutes after Bellatrix could finally feel her toes and fingers again, maybe before, maybe after) but soon enough the woman had turned their position all around. She had spun in place atop Hermione’s lap, as much as she could at least, pushing down against her bare chest until the older woman was suddenly lying atop her, her own head thrown backwards into a pillow as heat seeped down on her from above.

“My, my, Pet, you’re just a mite excitable I do believe,” Bellatrix leaned in to swipe a tongue against Hermione’s already bruised lips, fingers pressing into her side to wring a gasp half pain and half pleasure as her nails dug into skin. “Who would have thought that the staunch little Peacekeeper would have such an appetite.”

“I’m a grown woman, and I keep this town safe,” Hermione growled out her words beneath the heavy feeling of Bellatrix’s hands playing with her chest, “I’ll do as I damn well please.”

Bellatrix smirked down at her, “And  _ who _ you please as well, I see.”

Her words managed to wring yet another blush from Hermione’s skin, her cheeks turning the color of roses and eyes shutting tight against Bellatrix’s attempt at humor, “Yes…”

"Hmm," Bellatrix hummed and stilled her movements, "I think I like this position better, you're much too pretty to hide behind my back." She leaned in and pressed an open mouth kiss to the taut flesh atop Hermione's breast, "Much easier to see how wanton you are." 

Hermione could only murmur low voices of approval as the woman got to work, one hand rising up and behind Hermione's neck to trap the back of her head, the other twirling sharp fingers in circles against her side while she continued to move lower and lower. 

"Up," she commanded, shifting down lower until she could pull Hermione's trousers by the waist, "I want to taste you."

Hermione complied with little in the way of words, letting Bellatrix pull at the length of her trousers until they (and her knickers) came right off. Soon enough the fabric had joined the pile on the floor, forgotten amid the humidity of the room.

Bellatrix set to work immediately with a puff of cooling breath against Hermione’s overheated sex, leaving the younger woman to squirm backwards and forwards in place. Her hand rose to cover a breast, fingers pinching down upon the engorged nipple, the other lying flat against the plane of her stomach. Her head tilted backwards into the pillow behind her, bottom lip trapped between her teeth to stifle moans and words of pleasure. 

Bellatrix swiped her tongue along the length of the warm slit, tongue laving a succulent trail before her lips pressed down into the hardened flesh of her clit; the only free hand left to press down around a thigh, fingernails digging in to pull crimson to the surface. With a startling loss of heat the woman released her, lips and teeth pulling back to mark against the inside of her thigh, free hand curling up and over to press two fingers into the warm space between her legs, always moving, always warm, alternating between sharp bites and soothing kisses that soon enough had Hermione coming undone at the seams.

Panting soon gave way to moaning, moaning to an incomprehensible string of words and sounds, and then it all gave way to the woman’s name; a mantra delivered to the deity stuck between her thighs.

There were stars eventually, she was sure there had been, and a flood of heat like the apex of an Arizona summer that drifted and condensed around her body. The warmth was fluid and lazy, Hermione now nothing more than a stick that floated down a river of bliss, the smile on her face too strong to ever remove. Bellatrix moved up from her place of worship when all was said and done, her lips tasting of sweetness as a body heavy with alcohol and pleasure settled atop her form. With a single last kiss, placed upon her temple with more care than Hermione believed she had any right to, the woman draped them both beneath the heavy cotton sheets, one arm around her midriff and a warm nose pressed against the hollow of her neck.

Sleep took them both, safe in an embrace of lovers, if not quite enemies.

\---

Morning managed to bring with it a dry mouth and pounding ache the likes of which Hermione hadn’t felt since Harry’s birthday three years ago; a night when they had stayed awake for nearly two days amid a raucous train filled with merriment and liquor. She was nude, she could tell as much from the sweaty sheets that clung and stuck to her body, the length of her skin all sticky and bruised while she fought off the sunlight filtering in through the window at her back. 

Soon enough she stopped moving, stopped fighting, head buried into the safety of her pillow while she fought instead with the fragmented memories in her mind. She could remember chasing up word that a famous bounty was hiding beneath the safety of Luna’s parlor, she could remember that she had found a woman matching the description if not the name. She could even remember sharing a drink with her while they both commiserated in their shared status as women too strong for what was propped up and propositioned as a man’s world…

And then from there it all slid into a fuzz. She could feel the emotions more than recollect her actions, soft hands upon her skin, a warm tongue whispering sweet words into her ears, sharpened nails-

“Goddammit,” Hermione leaned up at the waist to let covers and sheets pool around her midriff. The room was now empty save herself; her trousers and the rest of her clothing all folded into a neat pile atop the table, the only sign that she hadn’t been alone that night.

Well.

That, and all the bruises and bites, scratches and hickeys, littering her body.

Bellatrix Black was gone.

\---

When she could muster the courage to do so, Hermione growled out in a voice that belied the pain between her ears and pulled herself bodily from the bed. With a huff and a sour look she began to dress as fast as she could, mind turned towards  _ capture _ instead of  _ remembrance. _ It was still early in the day, the light still orange and red from where it filtered in above the mountains littering the distant horizon, and Hermione knew that if she was fast enough she could still manage to catch the trail of the missing woman before she struck out too far ahead.

With a foot still hanging halfway out of her boot, Hermione hopped, skipped, and practically dove out from the door, her feet pounding up a storm against the hard wooden boards-

“Sheriff,” Luna stepped between the alcove of two doors and into Hermione’s path, her hair a veil of silver and gold that blocked her hard chipped eyes. “Where’re you off too in’a rush? Harry’s come n’ gone, said to let you have the day.”

Hermione blanched and fought for words, “Luna, that woman who was in the room-”

“You mean the woman who worked you,” Luna interrupted her words to smile devilishly up at her.

“I-, well, yes, that woman. Is she still around? Did she say where was off to?” Hermione stamped along the ground, boot  _ finally _ fitting snugly on her foot. 

“Nope, sorry ‘Mione. She paid her due and headed out before first light.”

Hermione rocked on now unsteady legs, dejected and unsure now that the woman had likely gone too far for her to follow. She reached into her pocket to retrieve the golden watch and figure out exactly what blasted time it was-

Gone.

The watch was missing, the chain as well, and in its place was nothing but a piece of folded paper.

Hermione felt a flush of embarrassment color her face (losing herself so badly that she had been robbed was definitely  _ not _ in her list of intentions from the night before), and slowly opened up the paper trapped between her fingers.

_ ‘Sheriff- Or shall I call you Pet? You certainly responded quite well to it last night-  _

_ I took the liberty of divesting you of that lovely watch before I left, you never did bring me a tip, so I believe this will suffice instead. I hope you’ll come to see it my way, just recompense for a night well spent. If not, and truly I hope you aren’t so daft as to ignore plain words, please travel due east for two days, to the foothills lining the Forbidden Mesa. _

_ I’ll be waiting- and looking forward to- your arrival. _

_ Don’t keep me waiting, Pet. _

_ -BB’ _

With a flush of heat that was  _ very _ different from the shame that had plagued her just a second or two ago, Hermione crumpled the note between her fingers as her mind whirled and morals began to crumble.

“Luna,” she turned to ask the silver woman, hair quickly palmed backwards into a tie of leather as she did so, “Could you let Harry know that I’ll be gone for a few days?”

**Author's Note:**

> Like Bellamione? https://discord.gg/pcfMU4F come on in and join the server!


End file.
